An Ending Interrupted
by disneylove89
Summary: Gaston survives to tear Belle away from a dying Beast. Locked away, humiliated, and abused, Belle fights to resist Gaston's attempts to poison her mind against the Beast in an effort to win her after all. I upped the rating to M for violence just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

_This is just something I came up with. I'm sure it's been done before, but I'm adding my two cents into this train of thought. Unrelated to my other Beauty and the Beast stories, probably a result of what happens when I watch too many drama/crime shows!_

* * *

Beast's POV

"Beast!" he heard her call and turned to see her standing on the balcony of the West Wing. Her hair mussed and clearly catching her breath, the Beast felt his eyes widen and his heart beat faster at the sight of her. She had come back to him. As quickly as he dared, he climbed up to her, reaching out to capture her outstretched hand.

"I'm so sorry, it's all my fault this happened! I didn't mean to. . ."

"You came back," he interrupted, grinning at her. He wasn't even sure what she was talking about, but nothing else mattered now that she was with him again. But a searing pain in his back marred their reunion, sending him into blinding agony. He roared, swiping at whatever had caused him such pain, but he could not reach it. He felt Belle's hands draw him forwards and he followed her lead as best he was able over the low stone wall and onto the balcony. His legs could not hold him, however. How strange it was to have so little strength in his body. He could hardly even feel his fingers. But he could feel Belle's hands on his face as he lay on the stone and he opened his eyes to see tears flowing from her beautiful brown eyes. Why was she crying? Was it because he had fallen? He tried to move and found that he couldn't, found that the pain it caused him was overwhelming, making him gasp for breath.

"Oh, Beast," she whispered, caressing his face with her delicate hands.

"Belle," he said, hearing his own voice weak and feeble as he raised one paw to cup her cheek. But before he could reach her, she suddenly disappeared from view. "Belle?" he tried to find her, but could not make his head move.

"Beast!" she screamed. Something was wrong. "Beast, no!" Her screams were ones of terror, but the Beast could not make sense of it, could not move, indeed could not even keep his eyes open. Belle was in trouble, but he could not make his body listen to his mind. He could not save her.

* * *

Belle's POV

She struggled against Gaston's arm that he had wrapped around her waist, but it was impossible to break his hold. Her Beast needed her; he was hurt, probably dying. She had to be with him. But Gaston had caught her around her waist and forced her away from her wounded Beast. She had no doubt this would not be good, wherever he was taking her, but her thoughts could only remain with the Beast, watching him as he lay on the balcony for as long as she could, willing him to move even a little to give her some hope he might be all right. But there was nothing, and soon the Beast was out of sight as Gaston neared the doors of the West Wing.

Just before Gaston forced her past the doors, she noticed the glint of glass and her eyes widened as she noticed Cogsworth hiding behind the doors with Mrs. Potts and Lumiere.

"Keep my father here," she whispered desperately. "Keep him safe." She knew wherever Gaston was taking her, he would try to force her to marry him again. She would not allow Papa to be hurt by Gaston's foolishness if he chose to make her father a pawn in his plan again. She didn't see if they nodded or not, but she knew they would do their best.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded of the brute who all but dragged her through the castle and away from her Beast. Now that her Beast was out of sight, Belle had nothing to focus on but whatever fate Gaston had planned for her.

"Back to the village," he replied, his voice filled with triumph and he tightened his grip around her as if to assure him of his victory. "Soon you'll forget that monster."

"No!" she all but shouted and struggled anew against his grip. "He'll come for me, and when he does, he will kill you!"

"Your monster is dead," Gaston laughed. "And you're mine now."

"Never!" she spat and began to strike him, anywhere she could reach; his head, his stomach, his arms, anywhere. But she might as well have been hitting stone for all the good it did her. Her Beast would save her from this; he would recover, and they would be together.

Gaston dragged her through the entrance hall, passed broken bits of furniture and unconscious men left from the battle that had raged in the castle earlier. The servants, her friends, had won the day, but Gaston still was able to find and harm the Beast. But the Beast wasn't dead; she refused to believe he could be killed by so wicked a creature as Gaston. She knew in her heart of hearts that she would never be Gaston's, that she would return to the castle and to her Beast. But when Gaston tossed her onto his massive, wicked horse like a sack of flour, she began to panic, her heart beating wildly in her chest that not everything would work out.

As Gaston prepared to vault into the saddle behind her, Belle took her chance and slid from the saddle, running for all her worth towards the castle. If she could just get behind a door, any door, perhaps even back to her Beast, she might keep Gaston from taking her. But she never made it even as far as the front doors before she felt Gaston's cold grip around her arm.

"No!" the scream escaped her before she could stop herself and tried to pry his fingers off of her.

"Easy, Belle," he said calmly. "You're just confused. The monster can't keep you here any more. I'm taking you home."

"Let me go!" she screamed, pulling at him. His words were nonsense. _This_ was her home, with her Beast.

"This is for your own good, Belle," he said, his voice evidence of his impatience. He drew his free hand back and Belle flinched, but it did no good. Gaston's hand came down on her hard, sending her into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Belle's POV

Belle woke in a haze of confusion, trying to recall what had happened. Blearily she opened her eyes to find that she was in a bedroom, but it was unfamiliar. It was much smaller than her room at the castle and had little in the way of decoration; it barely had any furniture besides the bed (stuffed with old straw by the smell), a small table and chair on the opposite wall, and a small wardrobe near the door. She could see through the window above her head that it was nearly mid-day and she sat up with a start, recalling all that had happened the previous night. The Beast! He was hurt, maybe dying, and Gaston had taken her from his side.

She was alone in the small room and Belle's mind immediately began whirring, forming a plan to get back to the castle. She had been away for so long already and the Beast surely needed her, to at least tend to his wounds. She knew she needed him, needed to be near him. She—A laugh quite nearby broke her train of thought and she froze. She couldn't hear anything more, however, so she stood to listen at the door, but she was stopped unexpectedly. She realized to her horror that her wrist had been bound to the bed with a length of rope.

Frantically, Belle sought for a way to free herself, knowing that every moment might be crucial for the Beast. He had been badly wounded when she was ripped away from him and, with the servants physically incapable of tending to him without hands or means to move him. . . Belle cut off her thoughts abruptly and focused only on untying the knots that bound her to the bed. She still had one hand free, so she worked at the knot on her other wrist. When that proved to be too tight, she knelt beside the bed and worked at the knots on the frame, able to use both hands on that one. The rope had been intricately woven so they could not be slipped off without destroying the whole bed which, by the looks of it, would be impossible for her without some sort of tool. She smiled grimly as she thought how easily the Beast could tear the bed apart without even exerting himself.

"What's this?" Gaston's voice came from the doorway and she froze. She had been so focused on untying the knots she had not thought to listen for anyone approaching. "The little bird wants to fly free?"

"You can't keep me here, Gaston," she fumed, whirling to face him.

"Of course I can," he said easily. "You're confused and tired. I'm here to make sure you get well again. I thought about handing you over to Monsieur D'Arque, but I couldn't stand being without you."

"Nothing's wrong with me!" she all but shouted. "You're insane, you have to let me go!" He stepped forward and took her shoulders. The gesture by appearances was a kind one, meant to comfort, but his fingers dug into her skin painfully.

"It will be all right, Belle," he said, feigning compassion. "Where's your father? I'll bring him here and he'll help you through this with me." Belle paused; his words sounded sincere, but she knew better. He still wanted to use her father to get at her, to use him as leverage against her?

"He's dead," she lied quickly. "He found the castle a few days ago, but he was ill and weak from the cold. He—he died in my arms the night before you arrived." Tears spilled from her eyes, but it was the image of the Beast's prone form that caused her to weep.

"That's too bad," Gaston said, but Belle knew he was only disappointed his plans had been thrown off. "But I'm going to help you, Belle," Gaston said, his cold blue eyes burning with purpose. "You'll forget the Beast, forget your supposed feelings for him. I don't know what he did to make you like this, but I'm going to set it right."

"He didn't do anything!" she protested, knowing it was useless to argue but couldn't help herself. "Please!"

"Oh, Belle," he sighed, pity for her written all over his face. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you get well." He brought a hand up and ran the back of it over her cheek. She flinched away from him, unable to hide her disgust, and he chuckled. "Soon you'll like that. I promise." He moved behind her and checked his knots, smiled once more at her, then left.

Belle stood frozen for a long minute, wondering what could have possessed Gaston to treat her like this. Before last night she wouldn't have guessed Gaston would threaten her father or kill to obtain her; mere hours ago she would never have thought Gaston would kidnap her and make attempts to brainwash her. What else could he be capable of? His eyes were wild and she couldn't be sure if he was slowly losing his grip on reality. Perhaps the battle with the Beast had taken more of a toll on him than she knew. Belle couldn't help how her heart beat wildly in fear at what his apparent madness might make him do to 'correct' her way of thinking.

Desperate to get away, to return to her Beast and leave Gaston far behind her, she turned to work on the knots again, working at the rough rope until it began to cut her fingers, her wrist chafing painfully where the rope was wrapped. She decided he must have done something to the rope to make it so secure, perhaps wet the rope first so it swelled? She didn't know much about knots, but it shouldn't be so difficult to undo, which only frustrated her more.

Hours she tried, and could barely loosen them until, just before she wanted to admit defeat, she felt something give in the knot. Eagerly, purpose renewed, she scrambled to undo the knots now coming apart freely. In minutes, the rope fell to the floor and she massaged her aching wrist where the rope had burned her. As softly as she could, she went to the door and listened for anyone that might be outside. When she heard nothing, she dared to open the door just a little, just so she could see outside, and realized she was in one of the rooms built above the tavern. To escape, Belle would have to sneak past the entire population that was doubtless downstairs having drinks and fawning over Gaston.

She wondered briefly if anyone else knew she was there. Probably Lefou, but she doubted anyone else. If they had, surely they couldn't allow Gaston to keep her like that, surely someone would have done _something_ for her. As it was, she couldn't possibly go downstairs without alerting Gaston; she could hear his booming, arrogant laugh echo up to her. She closed the door before she could be discovered, looking helplessly for another way out.

The window. Of course! She tore the sheets off the bed and wasted no time tying them together, making a rope as long as she could. Even when using the actual rope that had confined her to the room as an anchor to attached her sheet-rope to the bed, her makeshift rope stopped ten solid feet above the ground, but it would have to do.

Carefully, her heart beating with fright, she climbed out the window and began to lower herself down. She struggled not to use the side of the building as leverage, knowing that the sounds her feet would make would draw someone's attention. But she still managed to reach the end of the sheets in mere minutes and dangled as low as she could, trying to judge the distance between her and the ground. Finally she just had to take a breath and let go. She fell through space and hit the ground beneath her, rolling so as not to break an ankle and finish her escape there and then. Her knee was sore from the impact, but she ignored it.

Without looking back, Belle fled down the alley, behind the line of houses, and onto the road that led into the forest.

Being among the trees made her feel safer, but she daren't slow her pace. She wanted to put as much distance between her and Gaston as quickly as possible. If she had thought about it more she might have dared to try and find a horse, Philippe still being at the castle, but it was too late for that now. So she ran as fast as she could, hope flooding her chest as she made it further and further through the forest. She paused once or twice to catch her breath; she had neither the strength or stamina to run such a great distance, but she forced herself to keep going the moment she had her breath again.

The road split and she turned without hesitation to the less-traveled road and, though the sun had begun to set she grinned, knowing she was half an hour away at most. With that in mind, she quickened her pace as much as she could though her side was splitting and her lungs burned. Soon she would be with her Beast; she could nurse him back to health, for she had no doubt that Gaston had wounded him and _that_ is why he had not come for her. Then they could be together. She was panting, her pace slowing as her body rebelled against her, but the gate to the castle was in sight. But hoof beats pounded a terrifying beat behind her and Belle nearly screamed. With one last push, she broke into a sprint, running as fast as she was able, picking up her skirts to allow her speed.

Her hands made contact with the gate and it began to swing open. She intended to slam the gate behind her and throw the bolt, locking Gaston out at least temporarily to allow her to get inside the castle. But the hunter was too quick for her and, just as her foot made contact with the stone beyond the gate, she was jerked backwards violently as he pulled at her hair.

She screamed, but he did not heed her, dragging her by the hair back away from the gate. He slammed her against the stone wall that surrounded the castle and held her there by her throat, not choking, but keeping her in place.

"No!" she screamed. "Beast!" She was so close! So close to her Beast. She raised her hands, clawing for Gaston's eyes, desperate to break free from his grip. Her Beast needed her!

"You clever little beastie," he said, easily avoiding her reaching fingers. "He taught you well, didn't he? I shall have to treat you like the little beast you are until you learn better." Her heart stopped at these words, her blood running cold. What could he possibly do to her now?

Keeping her against the wall though she struggled and screamed for the Beast, he pulled a length of rope from his belt and deftly bound her hands together. When she tried to resist, he struck her. She could feel her lip bleeding, but she refused to give in. So she tried to bite at the knots that bound her hands in an effort to undo them, but he only hit her again, this time with enough force to send her to the ground.

"This is for your own good, Belle," he said, picking her up again. "You'll realize you're meant to be mine." He lifted her into the saddle as if she weighed no more than a doll, and she resented it. She also hated how he forced her to sit sidesaddle; she had always been accustomed to riding astride a horse, but sitting like this was painful and did not allow her a whole lot of control. To make it worse, Gaston tied her bound hands to the pommel of the saddle and took the reins so he could lead the horse back to town, making it completely impossible for her to do anything to control her direction, whether by horse or by foot.

Beaten for the moment, she allowed Gaston to lead her away but could not help looking back at the castle. She could see in the dying sunlight that most of the windows were dark. Did the Beast know how close she had come? Was he even alive to care? He had such a strong sense of smell and hearing, she found it hard to believe she had been so close and he had not come to her, especially after she had been screaming. Was he truly dead as Gaston tried to convince her? Or had he simply decided she wasn't worth all this trouble? She wasn't sure which option was worse and tried to drive them both from her mind, but she found it hard to dismiss the idea that something was very wrong.

Belle was quiet during the ride back to the village, far from giving up but deciding to save her strength for when she could actually do something. Tied to the pommel of a saddle did not present an easy opportunity for escape. When they got back to the village, she was hoping to be able to draw the attention of the villagers, even just one, just enough to make them at least question what Gaston would be doing. Even a small nugget of doubt in someone's mind could grow into something that might be able to help her.

But to her surprise, Gaston did not take her back to the village. He led his horse instead to Belle's own cottage, the lights of the village in the distance. Belle tried not to panic, and focused instead on trying to figure out what Gaston was doing. She knew this house better than anything, what made him think he could hold her there better than in the tavern? Especially now that the door to strongest point of the house, the cellar, had been destroyed by her father's machine piloted by that clever little teacup.

"I bet you're glad to be home," Gaston said with a confident grin as he untied the rope from the saddle. He took hold of her waist to help her down, but she squirmed under his grasp and overbalanced. Gaston caught her before she hit the ground and held her, one arm under her back and her knees.

"Ah, if only we were wed," he said, alluding to the moment when he would carry her over the threshold in just such a manner, sighing as though enamored by the idea of it. Belle felt her face twist into a scowl of disgust at the very idea of it.

"There's the little beast," he laughed. "I knew it couldn't be far. You shall see what happens when you act like a beast, and I'll get it out of you in no time." He carried her up the stone steps and into the house, her hands still bound.

"What is that?" she demanded when he brought her inside, trying to keep her voice from shaking. Beside the fireplace where the table had been, there was now a large iron cage, bars lining all four sides but the top and bottom solid metal.

"That's your home, little beastie," he explained, setting her down on her feet but keeping hold of her upper arm. "When you act poorly, you shall be put in here. If you act nicely, you shall sleep in your own bed."

"You mean when I act sweet and demure towards you," she spat. "Like a good little wife should."

"That outlook will change, little beastie." He pushed her towards the cage and she dug her heels into the floor, unwilling to be put in that thing like an animal. He was strong, but she was stubborn. Even as he pushed her closer, Belle resisted as best she could. When the cage was upon her, she wrapped her hands around the bars, trying to keep him from forcing her inside, but he pried her fingers open. In the end, Gaston slammed the cage's door shut and locked it with her inside, hanging the key on a string around his thick neck. "I'll be back to check on you in the morning. Perhaps by then you'll have softened a little bit." Without another word, Gaston left, slamming the door of the cottage behind him.

Belle was alone, in her own house but never more trapped or more frightened. The only light was from the moon that shone through the windows, leaving her in near darkness. At least the winter had gone so she might not freeze to death without a fire. How odd to be a prisoner in her own home, surrounded by familiar things but never more fearful.

Intent on escaping, and knowing she had until morning to do so, she explored the boundaries of her new surroundings, this horrible cage. Where would he even get something like this? It was big enough perhaps for a wolf, but Belle found it cramped and uncomfortable at best.

It was a rectangular shape, its longest side running parallel with the fireplace so it would appear she had merely stretched out awkwardly on the floor in front of it, if it weren't for the bars. The longest side was still too short to allow her to fully stretch her legs out, as short as she was, even when she pressed her back against the opposite side. The cage wasn't even tall enough to allow her to sit up, forcing her into an awkward slouch if she wished to do anything but lie down. The shallower edge of the cage was long enough that she could just touch one edge with her back against the other. The cage itself was in the center of the main room, too far from any wall to give her hope of finding something to pick the lock. The only thing within her reach outside the bars was the floor rug, which provided nothing for her.

She spent much of that first night trying to find a way out; a weak bar, a piece of metal to pick the lock, but there was nothing. She could not even untie the knots that bound her hands together; the knot was on the far side of her wrists and she could not bend or reach around to undo it with her teeth.

Belle lay down on the small, lumpy pillow Gaston had left in the cage for her, ignoring the hunger that began to pinch her stomach, and struggled not to cry. It seemed as though she would not be able to escape from Gaston this time, not unless she had help. She refused to believe the Beast was dead, but if he was not, why didn't he come for her? It had only been a day, perhaps he needed time to recover from his wounds, for he was most certainly wounded. How serious his wounds might be Belle did not even want to guess.

"He will come for me," she told herself and curled up more tightly. "I just have to stay strong."


	3. Chapter 3

She slept, more out of exhaustion than a desire to sleep, and woke cramped and sore, her wrists chafing under the rope she couldn't undo. Her first instinct was to stretch, but her feet stopped short as they hit the bars of the cage and her wrists rubbed painfully as she tried to move her arms, leaving her unsatisfied and angry. That anger grew as the memory of the past two nights flooded into her consciousness. Her instinct was to kick and scream, to seek a way out, but that would only waste what little energy she had. She hadn't eating since dinner with the Beast two nights ago and her escape attempt into the forest last night had not helped matters. Gaston said he would come back this morning; perhaps he would bring food with him.

Mentally she cringed away from the idea. She didn't want to depend on Gaston for anything; that would be part of his plan, to make her reliant on him until she wouldn't fight against him. She would not allow herself to do it, not even if it meant starving. She might, however, try to fool Gaston into thinking she had changed to his liking. Perhaps once his guard was down she could succeed in escaping and get back to her Beast. Or at least get to stretch her legs. Her muscles were sore from her desperate run last night and the cage offered a far too limited rang of motion for Belle to stop the cramping.

She didn't have long to wait; Gaston waltzed into her house as if he owned it hardly an hour after Belle woke, a tray of food in his hand. The scent of it made Belle's stomach growl, but she was determined in her plan.

"Good morning, Belle," he said cheerily, setting the tray down on a nearby chair and squatting down in front of her, his hands dangling off his knees. "Sleep well?"

Belle didn't reply. She couldn't even look at him, he who had caused her so much pain.

"Aw, now don't be like that, not when I've brought you breakfast in bed." Belle snorted. Breakfast in bed, indeed. Her legs spasmed painfully and reminded her of the reuse she had planned. She took a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face.

"How thoughtful of you, Gaston," she cooed, amazed at how even her voice was. "You're so kind to me."

"That's more like it," he said, obviously approving of her lies. "A night in here has done you some good after all."

"Oh, it has," she agreed, widening her eyes to emphasize her words. "In fact, I'm quite ready to come out and talk to you again about your proposal."

"I'd like that," he said, bringing his face up to the bars. Belle barely hid a shudder of disgust and brought her own face closer to his, close enough that she could count his short black eyelashes. "But I think it's best you stay there for a little while longer. Make sure all the beast is out of you."

"Whatever you think is best," she agreed though she wanted to scream in frustration.

"Now stay back," he cautioned, taking the key from around his neck. She scooted back obediently though her legs cramped in protest, and Gaston unlocked the door to the cage, preparing to put the tray of food inside for her. But as he reached for the tray just behind him, still crouched down with one hand on the cage's door for balance, Lefou burst in, startling them both.

"Gaston, you gotta hear this!" the tiny little man was shouting, but Belle was more concerned with the cage door Gaston had left open. Without thinking of anything but getting back to her Beast, Belle burst from the cage, overbalancing Gaston and sending Lefou toppling as she sped past him. Her legs were screaming at such misuse, but she ran on towards the trees that lined one side of her property. Even as she ran she cursed herself, knowing she had tried too soon, knowing her actions were foolish. It was impulsive and stupid, but the decision had been made, so she could only run.

But Gaston had caught up with her easily; he wasn't even breathing hard when he grabbed hold of her arm and halted her flight.

"This is getting very tiresome, Belle," he said impatiently, forcing her to turn around to face him. "You were very convincing, but I won't be falling for that again." Belle started to snap back at him, but Gaston drew one hand back and slapped her soundly across her face. With her hands bound she was unable to protect herself and she staggered at the blow, her cheek stinging, but she was able to keep her footing.

"Go on then, hit me!" she challenged furiously. "Beat me until I can no longer speak, let alone speak against you. Either way you'll never hear such words of kindness from me again! I _despise_ you, Gaston. I will _never_ be yours, so beat me or kill me, it makes no difference. You have taken my only happiness away and I no longer care if I live or die. But either way, I shall _never_ belong to you!"

Gaston's eyes filled with a dangerous anger Belle had never seen before, not even the horrible night he raised the mob to kill the Beast, and Belle braced herself for what was to come. She felt him hit her, his massive hands bruising her face and ribs, but it paled to the pain she felt in her heart as she finally accepted the Beast's death. How could he be alive and allow her to endure such humiliation, such pain? Gaston had wounded him too badly, of course he was dead. Her father would not be far behind unless the servants took care of his illness. Either way, he was at the castle and she was alone.

She barely noticed when Gaston threw her back into the cage inside the house, the food he had brought thrown angrily at the wall. She heard the door slam and knew Gaston had left. Tears she could no longer keep at bay coursed down her cheeks, the left side stinging as the salty water entered a new cut there.

"Beast," she moaned, curling up into as tight a ball as her bruised and bloodied body would allow. "Oh, my Beast. I'm so sorry. So sorry. It's all my fault." She was filled with the desire to see him one more time, to look at him and wish he would open his beautiful, deep, blue eyes for her, to smile at her. She thought of the mirror, but remembered it was still in her father's satchel, which was now at the castle. Belle cringed, hoping her father wouldn't use it to see her; she couldn't bear for him to see her like this.

She was glad she had asked the servants to keep him at the castle, glad he would not try to rescue her. Such an attempt would only end badly, she knew, and would force her to make a horrible decision. Her own life mattered little to her; she could hold out against Gaston if it was only her pain, only her misery. But if her father were caught by him, she knew she would do anything to spare him. She would have done anything to spare her Beast too, she realized. But now it didn't matter; the Beast was dead, and she couldn't tell him what was in her heart. Bitterly she wept until she no longer had the strength and she slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

When she woke it had grown dark again, though she couldn't say for sure what time it was, and swallowed against the terrible thirst that burned her throat. As she swallowed, she felt an odd, uncomfortable pressure around her throat. Still in the haze of sleep, she raised her bound hands to brush whatever it was away and her fingers hit metal. Startled and confused by this, Belle sat up further to explore this new development. Slowly, she felt at the thing around her neck and discovered it to be some sort of iron collar, locked in the back by a lock that felt similar to the one on the cage. Worst of all it seemed to be attached to a short chain on one of the bars, preventing her from moving very far even within the already limited range of the cage.

"Little beasties must be tied up." Belle jumped, not realizing anyone had been in the house with her. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could see Gaston sitting in her favorite arm chair not too far away, watching her. In the light provided by the moon, she could see that something had changed in Gaston. His normally neatly slicked-back hair was haphazardly out of its bonds, falling across his face. His blue eyes pierced through the black tresses, looking more like the hungry eyes of the wolves the Beast had saved her from that winter.

"Gaston?" she said warily, wondering what this meant. He grinned at her wildly and Belle's pulse quickened. She was at a loss at what to do. Part of her preferred the beatings to this show of insanity, for this was different, unpredictable. Before she would have sworn Gaston would not kill her, wanting her too badly to lose her, but now Belle had no idea what this version of Gaston might do. What had done this to him? Was he merely drunk? Or had some part of his mind snapped after she told him she'd rather die than be with him?

"Gaston?" A new voice called from the door, the light of a lantern momentarily blinding her. When her eyes adjusted, she saw Lefou in the doorway, her chain rattling in the silence that had briefly settled over them as she turned to look.

"What?" Gaston demanded, keeping his eyes on Belle.

"I—uh—there's people waiting for you at the tavern. Everyone wants to celebrate your—uh—conquest killing the creature." Gaston seemed pleased by this and sauntered towards the door.

"Don't go too far, little beastie," he said before he left. "I'll be back soon." Then it was just she and Lefou in the house. She had nothing to say to Gaston's lackey and turned as much as she could away from him, resting her head on one of the bars.

"Belle?" he said, his voice close and surprisingly gentle. Curious, she turned to face him again and saw that he had come to kneel beside her, the glow of his lantern washing over both of them. She watched as he briefly surveyed the damage Gaston had done to her face; she knew at least her left eye was swollen and the left cheek cut, but her right cheek was also tender and she wouldn't be surprised if there was bruising. What he couldn't see was that her sides hurt as well, bruised to the point that it made it impossible for her to find anything resembling a comfortable position.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, Belle," Lefou said and Belle was alarmed to see his eyes shining with tears. "I didn't know he was going to do any of this."

"It's all right, Lefou," she said honestly, realizing that he was sincere.

"No, it's not," he replied fiercely. "I wish I could make this right, but I can't." Belle could think of any number of ways Lefou might help, but she understood he wasn't strong enough to go so utterly against Gaston. "But I can do something," he added and reached into his pocket. He pushed his hand between the bars and handed her a small glass vial with a cork sealing the top.

"What's this?" she asked, turning it over in her hand.

"It's—it's for when you can't bear it anymore," he said, his voice cracking. "I don't know what else he'll do, but you can escape in at least one way."

Belle looked at the bottle again, unsure if she was terrified or glad at this new prospect. But suddenly she no longer felt so powerless. Hastily, she tucked it into the pocket of her dress, and took Lefou's hand with both of hers though the ropes pinched her skin painfully.

"Thank you," she said emphatically, knowing it had taken great courage for him to do this much.

Lefou nodded solemnly and turned to go.

"Could I ask one more favor?" she asked before he reached the door. "Could I have some water?" She hadn't eaten or drunk anything in nearly three full nights now and, while the hunger burned her belly, she knew she wouldn't last much longer without water.

Lefou nodded quickly and went outside to draw water from the well; Belle's mouth and throat ached in anticipation. He returned moments later with the bucket slopping over with water; bringing the whole bucket was perhaps not the easiest way to do it, but she wasn't about to complain. When Lefou got a cup from the kitchen and pushed it through the bars, Belle gulped down the cool water eagerly through her dry and cracked lips, draining the cup in seconds. She sighed in relief and handed the cup back for another.

"What are you doing, Lefou?" Gaston demanded and Lefou jumped, dropping the cup into the bucket. Belle struggled to reach it herself, but the collar wouldn't let her reach beyond the bars on that side.

"Gaston, I-I'm sorry! I-I just t-thought she might be thirsty," Lefou stammered. Gaston took two long strides forward, deftly emptied the bucket over Lefou's head, and kicked him out the door.

"You wicked little beast," Gaston fumed when Lefou had turned tail. "You were trying to get my friend on your side."

"Your friend," she scoffed, no longer caring what he did to her for her words. "As if anyone would treat friends as you treat Lefou! You monster!"

With a scream of rage, Gaston bent beside the cage and heaved, overturning her cage so the side that had been facing the door where Lefou had been kneeling minutes before, was on the floor. The collar grew taught and Belle choked until she could find her footing. But then Gaston overturned it again, this time so the right side was facing the floor. If the cage had been longer, Belle could have been in danger of being hung by the collar, but as it was she was able to keep her weight on her feet. This happened several more times, bouncing Belle painfully against the bars of the cage, the iron collar chafing and cutting into her throat, until either Gaston's rage or his strength gave out and he set her cage to rights.

"You poor girl," Gaston said calmly, almost sympathetically, quite the opposite of his mood mere moments ago. "If only I had known it was so bad. If only I knew where you were so I could have saved you before it poisoned your mind like this."

"Gaston, what can you possibly hope to accomplish from this?" she asked desperately, clutching the collar to give herself some relief from the chafing she just experienced and rubbed at several new bruises. "What are you trying to do?"

He looked at her in surprise, as if it should be perfectly obvious. "Save you," he replied simply and, for reasons unknown, abruptly left.

Exhausted, Belle lay down within the confines of her collar and fingered the glass vial she hid beneath her pillow. Freedom could be hers the moment she drank from that bottle, but she couldn't bring it out from under the pillow. If the Beast was dead and would never come for her, if there was truly no hope of escape, then why did she hesitate? Was she afraid? Perhaps. She didn't know what waited for her inside that bottle, but it had to be better than what she was enduring now. Perhaps she might even find her Beast again. Still, she decided she would wait until she could not physically take any more of Gaston's abuse. She would not die of hunger or thirst or by Gaston's hand. If she was to die, it would be on her own terms, when she was ready.


	4. Chapter 4

She was woken with a jolt, unaware she had fallen asleep, feeling as though she was being watched.

"Good morning, Belle," Gaston's voice said behind her. She turned to see him sitting in her favorite arm chair he had drawn up to her cage. He seemed more put together than he had last night, his hair pulled back smoothly and his eyes clear, though his smile was reminiscent of the one she saw last night. His knees were level with her head as she sat, his legs spread wide and his elbows on his knees so he could peer inside the cage at her. "I thought we could start over."

"Not likely," she muttered, turning away from him.

"Oh, c'mon Belle," he said and he stuck his fingers through the bars to lightly pull at a lock of her hair. She tried to jerk away, but the collar stopped her short and she winced in pain. "Now see? That's what happens when you do foolish things," he chuckled. "Shall we try that again?" She felt his fingers grab her hair again, just as gently as before and this time Belle remained still, feeling dirty as Gaston caressed her hair through the bars.

"I bet your monster wasn't as gentle as that," he said softly. Belle gritted her teeth and said nothing. She knew what he was doing; he was trying to turn her against the Beast.

"What did it do to you while you were there, Belle? Did he frighten you? Hurt you?" Gaston's voice was kind, silky, manipulative. It was true the Beast had frightened her at first, his flaring temper terrifying her enough to flee the castle, but he had never hurt her. And he hadn't frightened her since those first days of her stay.

"I wish I could have saved you sooner, Belle. You were a prisoner there for so long, weren't you."

"No," she said quickly and immediately wished she hadn't spoken.

"You _weren't_ a prisoner? That monster wasn't keeping you captive there? Don't tell me you stayed there _willingly_?" But she wasn't a fool twice; she kept her mouth closed tight.

"Oh, Belle," he cooed and she heard move to crouch behind her and rattle the chain that connected her to the cage. "Poor Belle. You really think it cared about you? Do you think it would have let you go with me so easily if it did?"

"You hurt him," she snapped and cringed again as she spoke. She was not doing very well at guarding her own temper.

"Because he wanted me to," Gaston said unexpectedly. "He no longer wanted to bear your company. He wanted me to release him from you." Belle shook her head and tried to ignore what he was saying. His words were poisonous nonsense.

"You don't believe me?" he continued when she said nothing. "Then why didn't he kill me when he had the chance?" When she still remained silent, Gaston appeared to have lost his temper. She felt herself jerked backwards by that hideous collar, slammed up against the bars. The collar cut into her throat as Gaston pulled it, making her gasp for air. "Why didn't he, Belle?" She couldn't answer, not with Gaston pulling her collar so tight she could hardly breathe, but she wouldn't have answered even if she could. Gaston was making clumsy attempts at making her question what had happened between her and the Beast, and she would not let herself fall for it.

Gaston released her after a few moments and she took several wracking breaths to force air back into her lungs, anger pushing her fear aside.

"Why didn't he kill me?" he asked again. Belle refused to answer at first, but she felt the chain begin to grow taught again.

"Because he is ten times the man you could ever hope to be," she hissed, turning to glare at him through the bars. "You cannot hope to _ever_ turn me against him. Do what you want, it only makes me hate you more! I'll never—" Her words were cut off as Gaston jerked at her collar again, slamming her head against the bars sharply, making her see stars.

"You'll change your tune soon, Belle," he growled in her ear as she fought to regain her vision. "Maybe another day going hungry will change your mind." With that, he released the chain, letting her collapse to the floor of the cage. She listened to him stomp out and slam the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief.

Alone, she massaged her neck as best she could beneath the collar with her bound hands. She could feel that the collar had chafed her and doubtless bruising had started as well. Her head was tender where she had struck it against the cage, but it didn't seem too serious. For less than a moment she considered drinking the contents of the vial Lefou had given her and be done with this nonsense, but still hesitated. Perhaps she could still escape, perhaps there was still a chance she could be free of Gaston. But where would she go? Back to the castle for her father, certainly, but how could she bear to stay there without the Beast? Gaston's efforts to win her might be bruising her, but knowing her Beast was gone tore at her far more deeply. There was no doubt in her mind any longer that he was dead; the issue now was how long she could survive with this knowledge breaking her heart.

Gaston left her alone the rest of the day, which was a blessing even as her thoughts were free to linger on her Beast. She saw once again his kind eyes, his gentle smile, felt his paw gently comb through her hair. It was a sweet gesture, so unlike what Gaston had done. What she wouldn't give to see her Beast one last time.

Perhaps it was her ravishing hunger that tore at her belly, the dehydration, or her complete and utter exhaustion, but she could imagine the Beast sitting beside her, just outside of the cage. She could see him so clearly, if only she could reach she could have felt his soft fur.

"Beast," she whispered, her parched and abused throat making her voice crack. He turned and smiled at her, his beautiful blue eyes glinting in the early afternoon sunlight, and began to read to her. His soft, rumbling voice went through _Romeo and Juliet_, the book they had been reading the day they had danced together. She let his voice, real or imaginary, calm her and slowly she drifted to sleep, one hand curled around the glass vial under her pillow.

* * *

"What did you do?" Gaston hissed, his voice close to her ear behind her, jerking her awake. Night had fallen while she slept and she struggled to bring herself back to reality.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, trying to force her confused, mulled brain to work. Four nights and three days with no food and barely any water were taking its toll on her and she couldn't focus properly. She gasped as she was suddenly wrenched backwards, Gaston pulling on the chain that connected the metal collar to her cage.

"How did you contact it? How did you call it?" he demanded and Belle fought for breath as Gaston pulled at the collar.

"I didn't!" she gasped, her voice hoarse, not knowing what he was talking about but desperate for air. "Gaston, please!"

Gaston didn't like this answer though, and she felt his thick fingers wrap around the collar itself to pull tighter. The edges of the metal band cut into her skin, blocking her windpipe and making each tortured breath more and more labored. Belle's mind began to buzz from lack of air and desperately her fingers sought the little bottle under her pillow. She could feel the edges of the pillow, but couldn't reach the bottle no matter how she scrambled for it.

She couldn't breathe, her vision began to go black at the edges. She clawed at the collar that cut into her skin, seeking purchase to give her some relief, some air. But Gaston refused to release her; she was going to die like this.

A noise outside the house provided her escape however, startling Gaston into letting her go. He ran outside and she collapsed to the floor of her cage, coughing and gasping, clutching her throat as she forced air back into her lungs.

"Belle!" he heard a voice call from outside, a voice that wasn't Gaston's. A voice she had been dreaming about mere hours before.

"Beast?" she said, or tried to say through her tortured throat. She shook her head and struggled not to weep at the horrible tricks her mind was playing on her.

_No more_, she thought bitterly. _No more!_ Still gasping, Belle threw the pillow aside and clutched at the glass bottle, her fingers, grown numb from being bound for so long, struggling to take the cork out. She didn't know how long Gaston would be outside investigating the noise, but she intended to be gone before he got back. At last her trembling fingers pulled the cork free and she raised the bottle to her lips. She smiled, knowing she would be with her Beast soon. No more visions, no more tricks, just simple oblivion with her Beast.

Before she could taste the liquid that would set her free, a roar echoed through the open door. Belle paused, knowing she had heard that roar before, knowing it could only be one creature in the entire world who made that sound, but also knowing it was impossible. Her mind was still insisting on torturing her. But before she could raise the bottle to her lips again and end her misery, the front door burst open, crashing against the wall with a loud thud. Gaston flew inside and crouched behind her, pulling on her collar so her back was pushed up against the bars, but still allowed her to breathe.

"I'll kill her!" he shouted. Belle was disinterested in this. The vial was still in her hands and freedom was moments away. But a small part of her mind couldn't help but wonder who it was Gaston was shouting at. A shadow fell across the floor as someone blocked the doorway and Belle gasped.

"I'll kill you if you do," the shadow growled, stepping forward into the cottage. It was her Beast! But she had seen him before in the little house, only a vision but just as solid. Surely this was nothing more.

"But she'll still be dead," Gaston replied, clearly talking to her vision. Were they both hallucinating the same thing? The phantom-Beast took another step closer and Gaston tightened his grip on her chain, making her gasp and the Beast froze. She couldn't see Gaston where he crouched behind her, but he was so obviously reacting to the Beast's actions. Perhaps—perhaps it was really him! As if in response to this potentially devastating idea, her heart began to beat wildly and her stomach fluttered with hope. For the first time in four nights she had _hope_. Not enough to release the bottle from her hands, but enough that she would give this vision a chance.

The Beast took another stride forward, his eyes flickering between her and the man behind her.

"Don't test me, _beast_," Gaston warned and Belle felt a sharp prick at her back between her shoulder blades.

"Let her go," the Beast growled and stepped forward again.

"If I can't have her, then no one will!" Gaston screamed madly, the knife point at Belle's back biting harder into her skin. The Beast took a fourth step forward; he was close now, one pounce would have easily closed the distance between them. Gaston tightened his grip on her collar until it was difficult to breathe. The closer the Beast got to her, the closer Gaston got to killing her. Her mind spiraled in panic; Gaston was not going to let her go with the Beast. He said himself that he would kill her before he let that happen. So with every step he took, the Beast was essentially killing her. If it were merely Gaston hallucinating, Belle would have willingly ended it with the vial Lefou had given her. But if there was some chance the Beast might be real, then there was a chance she might be with him. But not like this.

"Please, Beast," she gasped as she fought for air. He froze and looked at her with wide eyes, but she couldn't quite decide if it was horror or surprise in his eyes. He held still for a long moment, seeming to contemplate the situation.

"This isn't over," he growled, throwing a murderous glare at Gaston, and slowly backed out of the cottage. When he was gone, Gaston took the knife from her back and slowly released the collar to let her breathe properly.

"Well done, little beastie," Gaston said in praise. "You drove him away quite easily, didn't you?" Belle wanted to defend herself against this, to remind him that he was driving a knife into her back, but something made her stop. She _did_ send him away. He had wanted to try and save her, and she sent him away. She should have suffered Gaston's wrath if only to give the Beast a chance. He could've saved her, and she stopped him.

"You must want to stay with me after all," Gaston added. Was that what she did? Did some hidden part inside of her want to stay with Gaston? "For that, you get to have this," he said and handed her a cup of water through the bars. She took it greedily, gulping it down before she could think about what she was doing. Worst of all, she heard herself thank him for it. She _thanked_ him. What was she doing?

"And when it's safe, I'll go get a nice warm meal for you. You must be hungry." Her stomach rumbled painfully at the thought, cramping at its emptiness. "And if you keep this up, you just might get to sleep in your own bed."

"That would be nice," her voice betrayed her.

"Good girl," he praised. "You just hang in there a little longer until I can be sure that creature is gone." She nodded and curled her knees up to her chin, tucking her bound wrists in between her body and legs. Between her hands she felt the small bottle cradled between her palms. When Gaston had turned, she found the cork and preserved the liquid inside it. If she wished to stay with Gaston as her subconscious apparently dictated, there was no purpose of her keeping it. But it had become like a security blanket was to a child: safety and assurance that everything would work out one way or another.

"All right, I'm going to make sure it's gone," he said after a few minutes of silent waiting. "I'll be back though, don't worry." Belle nodded and buried her head in between her knees. She was so confused, her head spinning. What was happening? Did she really just turn against her Beast? She had sent the Beast away, accepted water and food from Gaston, even _thanked_ him for giving it to her. Worst of all, the Beast was no longer there and there was no sign of him coming back. That was enough to convince her shattered heart that she had chosen.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm back, Belle, The creature is gone," Gaston announced perhaps an hour after he had left her alone, but she didn't hear his boots pound against the floor, indicating he was still by the door. "I'm going to the tavern to get us something to eat, but I'll be back before you know it." She didn't respond, but it didn't seem to make a difference to him. He was gone, and she was alone again. It occurred to her that she wanted to cry, but she hadn't the strength or the tears remaining to do so.

"Belle?" a voice asked softly. The Beast! She whirled around and saw the Beast peering through the back door of the cottage. She jumped and shied away from him. He shouldn't be there. She had sent him away and Gaston would blame her if he found the Beast there.

"Go away," she said, pulling to the end of the chain. If Gaston came in, he would see she was trying to stay away, to do as he wanted.

"Belle, please," he begged, coming closer and putting his paw against the cage. "Please, look at me." His voice was soft and kind, just as she remembered it, just as she dreamt it these past few nights. She couldn't help but do as he asked, slowly raising her eyes to rake over his form, his living, breathing body. When she was finally able to meet his eyes, as she had been longing to do, she could see they were filled with pain. Had she caused that pain? For so long she wanted nothing more than to hear his voice and see his beautiful deep, caring eyes, but now that she miraculously got that chance, she saw nothing but his grief.

"Do you still—do you still want me to go?" he asked, sorrow punctuating his deep voice.

She couldn't answer right away. No, she didn't want him to leave, not without her, but she knew there was that piece of her that supposedly wanted to stay with Gaston, and that marred her. She wasn't good enough to be with the Beast, not after what she had done, what she had thought.

"Belle?" he said her name again and it occurred to her that she hadn't yet answered him.

"Gaston is getting me something to eat," she said as if it explained her lack of answer. "I'm hungry, you see."

"Belle. . .Belle you can eat at the castle. And not have to be in this cage. Don't you want to get out of his cage?"

"I'm in here because I disobeyed Gaston," she explained numbly. "If I get out, he'll only catch me and put me back."

"No, he wont," the Beast said harshly. He was angry with her, she realized. "Belle, if you let me get you out, I swear Gaston won't _ever_ touch you again." It was tempting and she did not want to hurt her Beast by denying him, but there was nowhere they could go where Gaston could not find them.

"He'll find me. He always finds me. I want to be safe. I want _you_ to be safe. As long as you're with me, you're in danger. Just go," she said, her voice even and calm, too tired for emotion, too tired to fight any longer.

"But—"

"Please, go. Before he comes back. I—I deserve this for what I've done. Just leave me."

"_No_! No, Belle you don't deserve this! You deserve to be taken care of, loved, and cherished. I'm getting you out." He began to reach for the lock on the cage door, but he froze as a sound met his powerful ears. Belle could see them perk the moment he heard it. "He's coming back."

"_Go_," she begged. "Just go!" He paused, glancing between her and the door before growling in frustration and disappearing out the back door just as Gaston opened the front.

"I hope you like steak, Belle," Gaston said merrily as he walked in, balancing a tray in his hand as he closed the door behind him, oblivious as to what had just happened. "Victoria makes a great thing of it. Now, do you think you can be a good little beastie and sit at the table to eat?" She nodded meekly; if Gaston thought it was all right for her to come out, she couldn't get hurt. "Good girl," he said and set the tray on the table to remove the key from around his neck. He unlocked the chain that linked it to the bars but left the lock on the collar untouched.

"Come on, then," he said as he moved to unlock the door of the cage. She crawled forwards, out of the cage, and stood for the first time in days. Her legs shook and she had to use the cage for support, but she was standing. Gaston moved to sit at the table and she was left to hobble over as best she could, the chain that hung from her collar tapping the middle of her back as she walked. Her legs were screaming in pain, but if she wished to eat it was the only way. Gaston merely watched her struggle from his chair. But she finally sat before the food, that glorious food that was still hot, and slowly carved a small mouthful from the steak, struggling with her bound hands, but Gaston made no offer to undo them. She knew such rich food was going to disagree with her after a too-long empty belly, but she needed to eat something, anything.

"May I. . .May I have some more water?" she asked cautiously after she had swallowed her first bite. He grinned and nodded, going to fetch it for her. He came back quickly, bearing a cup for her, but paused just short of the table, his attention caught by something near the back door.

"What is that?" he asked and went to examine whatever it was he noticed. "Belle, what is this?" He was obviously fuming, but about what she had no idea.

"I—I don't know what. . ."

"Come over here and look at this," he demanded, holding a hand out to motion to the floor. She did as she was told, limping over to look at what Gaston was pointing at, and her insides shriveled at what she saw: several impossibly large, muddy paw prints.

"He was here, wasn't he?" he demanded of her. "Your monster came back for you while I was out!" Not letting her answer, Gaston backhanded her across the face, sending her sprawling on the floor.

"But I didn't go with him!" she protested, attempting to push herself upright. "He wanted to take me away, and I stayed!"

Gaston raised his hand again, but paused at her words.

"You did, didn't you? You good girl." He extended his hand down to her and she flinched, but he was merely offering to help her up, a charming smile spreading across his face. She took his hand with both of hers and allowed him to hoist her upwards.

"I think I should put you back inside," he said, jerking his head towards the cage.

"No, Gaston please, I'll be good," she begged, her words sounding pathetic to her own ears, but she couldn't go back inside that horrible cage.

"It's not a punishment this time, Belle," he assured her, taking her chin in his fingers, his grip too hard. "It's for your protection. In case the creature comes back while I'm out hunting it."

"H-hunting?" she stammered.

"Of course. A thing like that can't be allowed to live, not when it's threatening beautiful young women like you." He bent down so swiftly she didn't have time to register the movement and pressed his lips against hers. It was too hard, too greedy, and Belle wished she could shy away from him, but his hand on her chin kept her in place.

"Soon now, Belle. Soon we'll be able to be together. I wish. . ." his eyes raked over her form greedily and Belle's insides squirmed uncomfortably, knowing _exactly_ what he was wishing. "But I won't spoil our wedding night. Now, in you go and wish me luck," he said, apparently satisfied with the kiss he had stolen, and led her back inside the cage. Once she was safely locked away again with the chain attached to the bars once more and the door locked. Though it had to have been the small hours of the morning now, Gaston left to begin his hunt.

She didn't want this, she didn't want any of this. Gaston's kiss was harsh and forced and simply _wrong_. His values at having a virgin bride were rather surprising; everyone knew of his dalliances with the triplets and who knows how many bar girls, so why spare her? She refused to think about that too much though, only being grateful he had only stolen a kiss. But for how much longer would a kiss be enough for him?

Belle knew she couldn't leave, not when Gaston would always be chasing her. She couldn't live waiting for Gaston to catch up with her, wondering if each new day would bring him upon her and her Beast. But she couldn't let him kill the Beast, either. She had been willing to give up the Beast if it meant he could live, but if she didn't do something, he would die now anyway. She couldn't lose him again, not like this. It was that thought that convinced her she could face the consequences of what would happen when Gaston caught her. If she could save her Beast from him, it would be worth what would come.

Desperate to get to him, to try and stop Gaston any way she could, Belle kicked against the bars and pulled sharply against the chain that held her. She tired out quickly though, gasping with her exertion within minutes. Belle tried again to find something to pick the locks with, but her search was as futile as it had been before. But then she realized that the knife from her meal was still on the table. She thrust her hands through the bars, the chain being on the same side which gave her a further reach, but since her hands were bound together she couldn't go much further than her elbows. Even so, she was able to just brush her fingers against the leg of the table.

Pushing herself painfully against the bars to further her reach, Belle's grasping fingers were able to close over the table leg. Slowly, carefully, she dragged the table closer to her. It caught on the rug and threatened to topple, but Belle decided that was for the best and encouraged it onto its side. Her now-cold dinner spilt, sending the plate and silverware scattering on the floor. The plate shattered and the silverware skittered towards her.

Quickly she snatched up the knife and began working at the lock on her chain. The lock that kept the collar around her neck was too difficult for her to reach, and the chain kept her from undoing the lock on the cage's door, so it was the chain's lock she wrestled with first. She had never picked a lock in her life, but she understood the basic concept of it from some of the books she had read. Jamming the tip of the knife inside the lock, Belle turned and twisted it, seeking a way to spring the lock open. Minutes ticked by and still Belle couldn't free herself. She began to panic, knowing every minute brought Gaston closer to the Beast.

But a roar outside, a horrible, angry roar, alerted her to the fact that Gaston and the Beast had ended up coming closer to her. She listened to the sounds of battle outside, frantically trying to open the locks, wishing she could get out there and stop them.

"Beast!" she screamed, hoping to instead bring them to her. She had an idea that might stop this, but it had to be done in their presence. "Gaston!" she called less willingly, hoping Gaston might grow angry at this and confront her. To her surprise though, it was the Beast who burst through the back door and leapt in front of her protectively. She could see his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath and Belle's heart twisted as she saw blood oozing from a wound on his leg. Gaston followed the Beast inside quickly, brandishing his hunting knife, the quiver at his back empty.

"I killed you before, Beast!" he growled. "I'll do it again. And this time you'll stay dead!" Gaston attacked, kicking the Beast's wounded leg and sending him to the floor. The Beast tried to pounce on him, but Gaston held the dagger to the Beast's throat. The Beast froze as the knife point pressed against his throat and was forced to his knees. Gaston grinned and Belle saw the triumph in his eyes. His arm moved to make the killing blow.

"No!" Belle shouted and Gaston paused, looking at her incredulously.

"What?" he snapped, his face twisted into an expression of disgust and anger.

"Don't kill him!" she demanded. "If you do, I. . . I'll die, too."

"What are you talking about?" he sneered. "You're safe in there."

"No, I'm not," she said and held up the vial she had kept safe all this time. As she did, she felt a tremendous power at revealing it but also knew it was also her last opportunity to use it. If this didn't work, Gaston would take it from her and then she would be truly trapped.

"What is that? Where did you get it?"

"Where I got it makes no difference," she said, strangely calm. "The point is, it's poison and it will kill me. If you kill the Beast, I'll drink it without hesitation."

"No, Belle you can't!" the Beast pleaded, but was silenced as Gaston hit the side of his head with the butt of his knife.

"You won't do that, Belle," Gaston said smoothly, confidently. "You want to be with me. This is the only way you can be safe from this creature."

"No, Gaston. I wanted _him_ safe. You twisted my words and confused me, but no more. I want the Beast safe, or I will swallow this and you shall never have me."

"And if I release him?" Gaston asked, obviously taking her threat seriously.

"I shall marry you," she whispered, feeling as though her words were building higher walls, stronger bars around her, sealing her fate. She would die, or become a prisoner to this man for the rest of her life.

"Very well," Gaston said and took the knife away from her Beast. "No tricks now. You leave here and you never come back," he instructed, pointing the knife at the Beast, motioning towards the door.

"Belle, I. . ." the Beast started, looking at her, the betrayal she saw in his eyes breaking her heart.

"Go!" Gaston shouted, shoving him roughly. "Crawl back to your hole knowing this woman will be mine. I told you she would be, beast." Belle began to weep quietly in her cage as she watched the Beast turn to leave, his shoulders hunched and looking beaten. She was sure the moment he walked out the door she would never see him again.

"Beast," his name escaped from her lips, willing him not to go but knowing it was the only way he would live. He paused at her feeble call to him and half turned his head so she could just see one eye.

"Let me do this, Belle," he said with a fierce grumble. She felt her heart begin to race as she realized what he meant. Could she do that? Could she live with herself knowing it was her decision? More importantly, could the Beast live with what he had done afterwards?

"I can't let you become a killer," she whispered, barely audible to her own ears. No matter how badly she wanted to be free, no matter how much she longed to be with the Beast, she couldn't let it happen at the hands of someone's death, not even Gaston's.

"And I can't let you marry him," he growled; she knew the anger wasn't for her, but she still flinched.

"Enough!" Gaston screamed, swinging his knife. "You've had your chance, now get out!"

"No!" the Beast roared in response and swept back towards Gaston before Belle could blink, catching Gaston around his throat and pinning him against the nearest wall. Gaston swiped at him with the knife, but the Beast caught his wrist deftly in his other paw and pinned it against the wall by Gaston's head.

"Beast!" she cried out, worried he might do something he would regret. The Beast did not directly acknowledge her, but he seemed to pause and check himself.

"You will leave her alone," the Beast growled, leaning close to Gaston. Belle could see the man recoil, his eyes on the Beast's fangs inches from his face. "If you do not, next time we meet I _will_ destroy you." Without another word, the Beast pulled Gaston forward and slammed his head against the wall. Gaston fell limp to the floor, unconscious but alive.

"I'm getting you out of here," the Beast said without pausing to ask her, turning his attention to her and effortlessly tore the lock from the door. "Come here," he said gently, holding his paw out to her.

"I can't."

"Belle, please, I can't leave you here again."

"No, I mean I can't," she said and raised a hands to her neck where the collar was. He growled in anger and she flinched.

"No, I'm sorry. That wasn't meant for you," he explained hastily.

"I know," she said, embarrassed at how jumpy she had become in only a few days. The Beast moved behind her and she heard him rip the lock to the chain clean off.

"There," he said, reappearing at the cage's door. "Can you get out on your own?"

Belle glanced towards Gaston's prone form, looking small and insignificant in the corner of the cottage, but she knew once he woke he would be angrier than ever.

"I won't let him hurt you, Belle. We'll be prepared for him coming next time. We'll be ready, and I'll stop him. Please, Belle. Please come back with me." He reached his paw out to her, his eyes plaintive and pleading. She knew Gaston would come after them the moment he woke, but perhaps the Beast was right, perhaps they would be able to fend him off when he did come. And she wanted to go home with the Beast so badly, she could no longer try to protect the Beast from Gaston.

Belle moved forward then, crawling towards the Beast and out of her cage for the last time. "Let me get that off you," he said gently and reached up to her neck. To her horror, Belle flinched, the memory of being struck by another pair of hands too fresh in her mind.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't meant for you," she echoed his words and smiled reassuringly at him. He nodded but still looked horrified, hurt, and raised his paw up again. She stood still as he carefully tore off the lock that kept the collar in place and gently took it from her throat. She sighed in relief and went to put a hand to the now-exposed skin, but remembered her hands were still bound. Before she could even ask, the Beast quickly took one claw and sliced through the rope, unwrapping it carefully to expose the raw skin underneath.

He took her hands gingerly, running his thumbs over her unscathed knuckles as he stared at the welts the rope had left.

"What's this?" he asked, gently taking the vial from her fingers. "Belle, you don't need this anymore."

"But. . ." she trailed off and took the vial back.

"You don't mean you want to keep it?" He seemed shocked, horrified even.

"If this ends badly, I want a way to escape," she explained. The Beast looked for a moment as though he might snatch it from her and throw it away, but he sighed and nodded.

"I won't take that choice away from you, but promise you won't use it until you _absolutely _need to."

"I promise," she agreed soberly. "I have no wish to die, but if it's my only option, I'm going to use it."

"I understand," he said with a nod, though she wasn't sure he did. But it was enough that he trusted her. With a shake of his head, the Beast drew her upright but her legs protested and she started to fall. She never hit the ground though, the Beast catching her in his gentle paws and lifting her off her feet in one smooth motion. It was a kind gesture, meant for her comfort rather than his will unlike Gaston had done mere days ago.

"Belle, I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner. I'm sorry you had to go through all of this," the Beast said, his face twisted into an expression of grief and guilt. "And I know you don't want me to kill, that you think I'm better than that. But after this, Belle, I would kill him in a moment."

"Hush," she said, holding her fingers to his lips, to weary to discuss all this horror. "Just take me home."  
"But. . ." he paused and looked around her house.

"No," she said and shook her head but found that made her dizzy. "Take me home," she said again and put her hand on his chest. She saw him beam then as he realized what she meant, and his happiness made her smile.

"One minute," he said and placed her carefully on the chair by the window. She watched as the Beast went back over to Gaston and unceremoniously picked him up by his upper arm, dragged him towards the open cage, and threw him inside. The lock having been ripped off, the Beast instead tore a bar from the cage and bent the metal around the cage door, successfully latching the cage closed with Gaston inside. The gap the missing bar made was no bigger than Gaston's thick arm, and the bent bar would hold the cage door closed. Gaston would get out eventually once Lefou found him and got help, but it would certainly slow him down.

"Let's go," the Beast said, his work done, and gently took her in his arms again. The Beast carried her outside and Belle breathed in the cool night air. She shivered and buried her head into the Beast's chest, concentrating on the fact that she was finally free and not the knowledge that Gaston would try to obtain her again. The night was chilly, but the cool air felt good on her skin, especially as she let herself absorb the Beast's warmth and breathed in his scent. It was this more than anything that made her realize that he was real, that he was alive, and that was enough to make her feel safe.


	6. Chapter 6

Belle's POV

She woke to the unfamiliar feeling of being comfortable and warm. Why was that feeling so strange, when she had been so happy with the Beast? She stretched and winced as unexpected pain shot through her and the memories flooded back to her so swiftly it stunned her for a moment until she jerked into totally consciousness with a start, gasping and aching all over.

"Careful, my Belle," a familiar voice said. She was back in the castle, back in her own room. She noticed that she had been given a bath and her wrists wrapped in soft, clean bandages which confused her and slightly terrified her. Remembering that someone had spoken to her, Belle turned towards the speaker and smiled, but it was her father and not the Beast who sat beside her bed.

"Papa," she said happily, smiling and reaching out to him but finding even this small movement hurt.

"My darling daughter," he said, taking her hand and she could see tears in his eyes.

"I'm all right, Papa," she tried to assure him but winced as she moved again. "At least, I will be."

"What happened to you?" he asked, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Gaston," she replied bitterly, recalling the horrors she had endured at his hands. "He took me from here the night the villagers attacked."

"He didn't. . ." her father trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

"No, he didn't," she confirmed, knowing her father had been worried Gaston had forced himself on her. Of the horrors he had inflicted on her, he had at least spared her that. "I think I'd rather not tell you about it all, but it's only what you see." She watched his eyes survey her injuries and tried to smile. "Do I look very bad?" she asked with a weak laugh.

"I'm afraid so, my Belle," Papa chuckled in a sad sort of way. "Thank goodness the Beast was able to save you."

"So you forgive him for what he did to you?" she asked, surprised at this sentiment from him.

"Of course. After you came home saying he was good and kind, how could I think otherwise? And this puts him in my good graces even more," he chuckled, but quickly grew serious again. "Belle. I'm so glad you're safe. I'm so glad you've come back to me. You have to know how much I wanted to go after you, how much I wanted to help you."

"I know, Papa. But I had to protect you. Gaston only would have harmed you to get at me. And it looks as though you're feeling better."

"Not completely, but I'm on the mend," he assured her. "As you are, too." A knock at the door drew their attention and Belle smiled as the Beast opened the door.

"Lunch is ready, monsieur," he said to her father. "I can watch over her while you—Belle!" he cried, noticing she was awake and visibly perking up at this development.

"I'll let you two talk," Papa said and kissed her hand, giving it a squeeze before leaving, closing the door behind him.

"Belle," the Beast said again and Belle sighed, adoring how he said her name, as though she brought him peace, that she was so important to him. But he did not step any closer to her.

"What is it?" she asked, concerned by this.

"I—I don't want you to be frightened of me," he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly.

"Frightened? Why would I be frightened of you?" she demanded, trying to sit up but found her sides hurt too badly.

"Because I was prepared to kill, Belle. I was going to kill Gaston without a second thought. If you hadn't stopped me. . . I don't want to be a killer, I want to be better than that, but after this. . ."

"I know," she said. "I'm glad you didn't, though. We'll find another way, think of something else. But it would be a lie to say I don't wish him dead," she said honestly. After what Gaston had done, how could she think anything else? But still the Beast refused to come any closer to her.

"Beast," she said softly, but he didn't respond. She threw the covers back and forced herself to stand though every muscle in her legs screamed in protest and her bruised ribs throbbed. But she made herself move and closed the distance between her and the Beast.

"Beast," she said again and put her hand to his cheek, caressing his soft fur. "I'm sorry. It's just that, I thought you were dead. I thought he had killed you. And after everything he did to me. . ." she trailed off as flashes of what she endured tortured her mind. "I'm angry at him, Beast. I'm so angry." She dropped her hand from his cheek and leaned into him, needing his warmth, needing to hear his heart beat in his chest. His arms wrapped around her hesitantly, gently holding her, enveloping her in the blissful comfort of his embrace.

"It's all right, Belle," he whispered, feeling his breath on the top of her head as he spoke. "It will be all right." There, in the comfort of the arms of the person she though she had lost forever, Belle broke down. She sobbed into his fur, every tear a bit of pain she had endured, both the physical pain and the torture that had been done to her heart. After a few minutes of this, her shaking legs failed her and she sank to the ground. The Beast followed her, keeping her in his arms and moving her carefully so she could recline against him rather than the hard floor.

"Beast," she whispered between sobs and clung to him, burrowing deeper into his embrace, seeking and finding comfort there.

* * *

Beast's POV

He held her bruised and battered body as she wept, his heart aching at the pain she was in. He would have given anything to relieve her of that, to take away her memories of the past few days and of the pain she endured. He would hold it all himself if only she wouldn't have to.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come to you sooner," he said when her sobs quieted. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she said quickly, drying her eyes and looking up at him. "Please. I know you would have come if you could. I only glad you're alive." He cringed, knowing how close he had come to that not being true. "What is it?" she asked, noticing his reaction.

"Later," he said with a smile. "For now, you should rest." He picked her up, standing with her in his arms though the wound in his side burned and the cut in his leg throbbed, and deposited her gently back on the bed.

"Will you stay with me?" she asked as he pulled the covers over her again.

"Of course," he agreed easily and pulled a chair beside her bed. "For a little while, anyway. I want to make sure we're as prepared as we can be if Gaston comes back."

"Oh," she said, and he could see in her eyes how she tried to guard herself from the memory of the past few days. "What can I do to help?"

"The only thing I want you to do if and when he comes is _hide_," he said emphatically. "I can't see you hurt by him again. But of course I'll stay with you for a little while."

"Thank you. I don't think I can be alone right now. I don't want you to have been a dream."

"I'm here," he promised, taking her hand, careful of her bandages. "I'll always be here, for as long as you want me." He wanted to say more, to confess what was in his heart, but it wasn't the time. Right now, he was glad to remain by her side. "Shall I read to you?" he asked. "There's a book here that seems half finished." He loved that she always had multiple books going simultaneously. They had been working on _Romeo and Juliet_ in the library, but she had another in her room.

"That seems so long ago now," she reflected as he picked up the book from her nightstand. "So much has happened."

"But you're back, you're here," he reminded her.

"With you," she added, sending his heart beating wildly.

"Y-yes, with me," he agreed, feeling his face grow warm and glad of his fur to hide it. He cleared his throat and began to read where Belle had marked her place in _Arabian Nights_. Barely three pages in, he looked up to see that Belle had fallen asleep again. He sighed and lowered the book, allowing his eyes to wander across her form.

Her left eye was swollen, the same cheek cut but no longer bleeding and the opposite side of her face covered in a vivid bruise that ran from her eyebrow to her jaw line. He could see her arms to the elbow (her nightgown covered the rest) were peppered with long cylindrical bruises that could only have come from the cage she was locked in. Mrs. Potts said that both her sides were covered in large bruises to rival the ones on her face, which explained why she winced every time she tried to sit up. Worst of all, the vivid, raw mark on her throat from that collar, that hideous, evil collar. They had tried to bandage it, but Belle, still unconscious, had ripped the bandages away in an effort to be free of any constraint there. The state of her skin, bruised and raw, was a vivid reminder of when Gaston had choked her to drive him away, and by the looks of it he had performed that act more than once.

Rage built inside him again at the way Belle had been treated, rage towards Gaston, but also towards himself. If only he had stopped Gaston that night, if only he had been paying attention he wouldn't have let that man sneak up on him on the balcony. Belle had endured all this because of him, and he would never forgive himself for that.

But she was back, she had returned to him willingly when she was free to do so. Gaston would be dealt with, her bruises and injuries would fade, and this episode would be banished to both their nightmares. She seemed glad to be with him, which sent joy to his heart even though he knew there was no longer any hope for him to be with her. The last petal of the rose had fallen the night Belle was taken from him; his fate as a Beast was sealed, but Belle's presence made that burden easier. She did not seem to mind his form and seemed happy to remain with him. Whether she loved him or not no longer mattered; he loved her and he would see to her comfort, remain her friend for as long as she wished.

He wanted more, of course he wanted more. He wanted to hold Belle in his arms and capture her lips with his own. He wanted to stand before her as a man and know her touch without fur or claws. He wanted to _marry_ her and become one with her. All of that was impossible now, but was enough to have her with him again, enough to watch her breathe as she slept and know she was comfortable and safe. It was enough that she called this place her home.

* * *

"Master! You must come at once! That man has come back!" Lumiere cried, hopping into the room. Belle woke at this disturbance and immediately reached for his hand. Even in the midst of his anger, the Beast was able to appreciate this gesture.

"Already?" he snapped. It was too soon, they weren't ready. "How many are with him?"

"Just one, sire."

"One?" He had expected another mob to be marching towards the castle.

"I doubt Gaston wanted to admit he hadn't killed the Beast after all," Belle mused. He nodded, but was still surprised at it. Still, he wouldn't complain about having to battle two men rather than fifty, even if Gaston had gotten the better of him last time.

"Belle!" Her father burst into the room, nearly tripping over Lumiere who deftly hopped out of the way. "Belle, he's here! We have to hide you!"

"And you, monsieur," the Beast added gently. "I know what Gaston did to you to get Belle to marry him. It would be wise for you to hide with her."

_Thank you_, Belle mouthed at him and he nodded in reply.

"Go quickly before he gets inside. Hide anywhere but the West Wing. If he gets past me, he knows where that is and I bet that would be the first place he'd look." Belle nodded solemnly and slid out of bed, using her father's shoulder as support. He wished he could carry her so she might not have to cause herself pain, but there wasn't time. As it was, he had to bolt out of the room to make it to the entrance hall in time to head Gaston off.


	7. Chapter 7

Belle's POV

She limped down the hall with her father supporting her, wishing she could take more of her own weight. The muscles in her legs still spasmed painfully though and her bruised sides made it difficult to turn even the slight amount it required for walking. They hardly made it down the hall when Belle was forced to stop and rest.

"Perhaps we can just make it to that door and hide there," her father suggested, looking to the nearest doorway that led into another bedroom. Belle agreed, but before they could move, an angry roar echoed up to them, making her pause. She started to turn, needing to go to her Beast, but Papa stopped her.

"No, Belle. He wants to keep you safe. You must do what he asks and _hide_," he said, practically pulling her down the hall.

"I can't let him risk his life for me," she protested as echoes of the battle tortured her. Roars from her Beast and yells from Gaston intermingled as their combat ensued. Belle's heart was tearing apart as she listened to the distance echoes, wishing there was something she could do, but trying to heed the Beast's direction as her father asked. Minutes later, the sound of a gun blast pierced through the air, silencing all other sounds.

"No," Belle whispered, her heart racing and her mind buzzing. Shaking her father off, ignoring his protests, Belle stumbled down the hall using the wall as support now, moving as quickly as she could and nearly screaming with frustration when she couldn't go fast enough. Papa followed more slowly, but at least he wasn't trying to stop her. She tried desperately not to imagine the worst, but there had been nothing but silence since the echoes of the blast died away.

At last she reached the entrance hall where the sounds had been coming from, tripping down the stairs as she leaned heavily on the handrail, looking around the darkened area to try and piece together what happened. Frantically she looked for signs of her Beast, glad she had kept the vial of poison in the pocket of her dress. If the Beast was gone and Gaston caught her again, it would be her only chance of escape.

"Beast?" she cried as she reached the bottom of the staircase, unable to see him and fearing what that might mean.

"I'm here," he called and she nearly collapsed in relief as she spotted a moving shadow behind one of the columns that supported the large, open area. She went to him as quickly as she could, noticing he had not moved and wondered if he were hurt after all.

"What happened?" she asked as she stumbled towards him. He was standing and, more importantly, breathing, so the gunshot had not hit him. "Where's Gaston?"

"Over there," the Beast motioned with his head to his left and Belle began to move in that direction. "No, Belle you shouldn't!" he said, catching hold of her hand, but that only made her more curious.

She peered around the column to see Gaston lying on the ground a few feet away, his chest heaving but apparently otherwise unable to move. She stepped closer, confused by this, and stifled a scream as she saw what had happened. Gaston had been hit fully in the chest by his own blunderbuss, his chest and stomach a gory, bloody mess riddled with holes and oozing his life's blood onto the marble floor. But he was still alive.

"Did you. . .?" she started to ask the Beast, wondering if his large fingers were even capable of operating the gun, but he shook his head and pointed a little further away. Lefou was standing in the space between two columns, facing away from the Beast and towards Gaston. He was shaking, still grasping the blunderbuss, his knuckles white.

"Lefou?" she couldn't believe it; _Lefou_ had shot Gaston? He jumped at her voice and stared at her with wide eyes, but didn't reply.

"Belle," she heard Gaston say and turned towards him again. His voiced was muddled as he spoke, thick and gasping. Knowing he was dying, that there was nothing more he could do to her, Belle cautiously stepped towards him.

"What is it?" she asked gently, compassion overpowering any anger she felt. It was not an easy way to die; he was obviously in terrible pain, and Belle would gain nothing by acting cruelly towards him.

"You were supposed to be mine," he said, coughing on his own blood, each word sounding as though he had to rip it from his throat. He had to force his eyes to stay focused on her and his breath was coming in wracking gasps.

"No, I wasn't," she said softly. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, but I was never going to be yours." He reached up and took hold of the hem of her dress, pulling her towards him. She fought against him, but his dying grip was still stronger than her tortured legs and she fell to her knees beside him.

"This is your fault," he hissed, pure hatred in his eyes and venom in his voice. Belle was too shocked to reply, but there wasn't a chance for her to. No sooner had Gaston uttered his hateful words than he fell back, gasping and coughing violently, and was at last still, his cruel blue eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

She drew back from him quickly, pulling her dress from his still-clenched fingers, and swallowed another scream. Large hands fell on her shoulders and she jumped in fear.

"It's just me," the Beast said gently, kneeling beside her. "It's just me."

"He's gone," she said, more to make this fact real to her than anything else.

"I know."

"What happened?" she asked, but looked to Lefou for an answer, trying to ignore Gaston's body lying between them.

"I-I was holding it for him. He-he. . . and I. . ." Lefou stammered unintelligibly.

"He saved my life, is what happened," the Beast offered. "Gaston had me cornered and this man—Lefou, did you say his name was?—Lefou ran in front of me and shot Gaston full in the chest."

"I couldn't let him. . . I knew he was wrong, after the way he treated you, Belle. So I had to. . ." Lefou seemed to be in shock and couldn't say any more.

"We should go," Belle said and struggled to stand. "Lefou, come with us. You should rest and get something to eat." Lefou said nothing, but he dropped the gun to the floor with a deafening clatter and followed her.

"Why don't you come this way, dear," Mrs. Potts said as they approached the staircase, leaving Gaston's body behind for the time being. "We'll have you right as rain in no time." Lefou flinched back from the talking teapot.

"It's all right, Lefou," Belle assured him. "No one here will hurt you, I promise." Lefou paused, but nodded after a moment and willingly followed Mrs. Potts up the stairs and down the hall, doubtless to get a calming cup of tea, something to eat, and a comfortable place to rest.

"What happened?" Belle heard her father demand, coming down the stairs after Lefou disappeared up them, Lumiere and Cogsworth close on his heels. Belle got the impression that they had detained her father while she went downstairs and she was grateful for that, even if her father didn't seem to pleased by it. "Belle, you're covered in blood!" She looked down at her dress to see the beautiful blue fabric was indeed stained with Gaston's blood and she felt her stomach roil.

"It's not mine, Papa," she assured him. "It's Gaston's."

"_Gaston's_? But then he must be. . ."

"He's dead," she confirmed, her voice flat. "Lefou shot him."

"_Lefou_? Perhaps you'd better tell me the whole story," Papa said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I'll have to. . . to leave you to it, I think," the Beast said, but she could hear the pain in his voice.

"Beast?" she asked, instantly worried, and turned to look at him.

"I'm fine. It's nothing," he assured her. "Just a scratch."

"Let me see," she demanded, trying to get him to stop stooping over so she might look. She gasped when he revealed a large slice in his shirt that ran across his chest from his left shoulder to his ride side near the ribs, the shirt stained with his blood. "We'll have to take care of this before it gets infected," she said quickly. "I can see to your leg wound, too," she added, remembering the wound she had seen from his last encounter with Gaston at her house.

"No, you need your rest. I can manage," he protested.

"No, you can't. And you'll let me help you because I need the distraction and you know you're being a fool," she said and distinctly heard her father chuckle. "Come with us, Papa, and we'll tell you what happened."

"A fine pair you two make, hobbling along like this," her father joked as they began to leave that foul place where death lingered. "Why don't I take my daughter if you can mange better without worrying about her," he suggested and draped Belle's arm around his shoulders so she could lean on him instead. The Beast dropped to all fours with a sigh and Belle knew he had to be in proper pain then. He hadn't walked on all fours since her first few weeks in the castle; she felt it was a sign he had left his animal instincts behind, but it seemed it was more comfortable for him to walk that way now, not because he was abandoning all that he had become, but because it eased the pain he was in. He avoided her eyes though, and she got the impression he was embarrassed by this.

Together the three of them made it to the sitting room just off the entrance hall and the Beast slunk into his chair by the fire much as he had the night he had saved her from the wolf pack. Papa drew another chair up for her so she could sit beside the Beast and she smiled at his thoughtfulness.

"I never thought I would be the most able-bodied of any group," Papa laughed. "Wait there and I'll see if I can't scrounge up some hot water and bandages."

"Are you all right?" the Beast asked when they were alone. She looked up to see his eyes so full of concern for her, even as pain highlighted his expression.

"I don't know," she said truthfully. "That was—difficult to see. He blamed me for it all, at the end," she added, trying to make her voice light, but only able to see Gaston choking on his own blood, using his last breath to blame her for his death.

"Belle," he said, reaching for her hand. "Belle, this _isn't_ your fault. You can't even think that for a moment. You wanted your freedom and Gaston _never_ would have given it to you. Lefou freed you as much as he rescued me. Don't let Gaston's madness get to you." Belle wanted to believe him; she did believe him really, but she also knew it would be a long time before she would forget Gaston's final words.

"I'm glad you're safe," she said in a way of a reply, reminding herself of the good that had come out of this.

"Belle," he sighed and looked as though he was going to say more, but her father came back bearing a steaming bowl of water and an armful of bandages.

"I thought this might be enough," he said as he came in but paused, looking at their entwined hands. Belle blushed and pulled away under the pretense of reaching for the bowl.

"Thank you, Papa," she said but didn't miss the curious look he gave her.

"Now, will you tell me what happened?" he asked as Belle settled in to tend to the Beast's wounds. The Beast relayed the same story he had told her earlier and Papa seemed just as astonished as she had.

"I never would've guessed Lefou had it in him," he said, shaking his head. "I can't say I'm sorry though, about Gaston I mean. If I were a younger man I would've tried to kill him myself."

"I know how you feel," the Beast muttered. Belle couldn't stand it; Gaston had put such murderous thoughts in them both, he was still tormenting her even after his death.

"No!" she cried, dropping the cloth she had been using to clean the Beast's wound. "Stop saying that! Both of you just stop! A man is _dead_, and all you can say is that you wish you had done it! Both of you are too good to think such things. You are not killers!" If she had the strength she would have fled, but as it was she could only slump and bury her face in her hands.

"Belle? Belle, I'm sorry," she heard the Beast say.  
"I am too," Papa put in. "We just wanted to protect you."

"I don't need you to protect me by threatening murder," she shot back.

"You're right," the Beast said. "We're both just angry at what happened."

"Now please, my Belle," Papa asked, taking her hands gently away from her face. "Don't be upset. It's all over and done with now." She raised her head as her father bid, but still couldn't quite get control of herself. Instead she focused on the strange sight of having the Beast and her father sitting in the same room together, talking civilly, even working together to make her feel better.

"What's that smile for, now?" Papa asked, clearly glad to see her mood apparently lifting.

"I just like seeing you two getting along," she said simply.

"Well, it seems we have something in common," Papa pointed out. "We both care about you. Now, I'm not one for blood and all that, so I'll leave you to it."

"You're father isn't squeamish around blood," the Beast said as her father left.

"How do you know that?"

"He bound my wounds the night you were taken. He saved my life, the night you were taken." Belle paused, surprised by this new information, and took up her work tending to the Beast's wounds.

"What happened?" she asked. "Please, won't you tell me?"

* * *

Beast's POV

He didn't feel ready to tell her what she asked of him, but he couldn't keep it from her forever. "I—Gaston wounded me badly that night," he admitted. "That's why I couldn't get to you, Belle. I couldn't even sit up for the first two days. I might have died where I was on the balcony but. . ."

"But what?"

"Your father saved me, Belle," he said simply. "After you were gone, your father wandered into the West Wing in search of you. I was dying when he came up to me. He was scared of me, I could see him shaking, but he stood next to me and he told me all the kind things you said to him about me. Then he helped bandage my wounds and made sure I recovered. He brought me blankets to keep me warm, water and food so I could get my strength back."

"And you're better? Four nights and you're better?" she asked in disbelief.

"No, not entirely," he admitted, feeling the wound in his side pulse painfully as he spoke. "I heal quickly, it's true, but I pushed myself hard to come and get you. But I'll be fine," he insisted when she started to worry over him.

"How did you know where I was?"

"The mirror. When I was strong enough, the second day you were gone, I think, I asked where you were and your father said you weren't in the castle. He didn't see Gaston take you, but he was worried it had something to do with him. I uh. . . I didn't let your father see it, just in case," he added and by the look of relief on her face, he had done right.

"What. . . what did you see?" she asked hesitantly as if she'd rather not know the answer.

"I saw you talking to Gaston from inside the cage," he said, hating the image his mind gave him. "I heard—I heard you talking to him and I thought he had gotten you on his side. I couldn't stand the thought of it, I couldn't bear to think of you as his, but then I saw you try to escape. I wanted to get to you so badly, but I was too weak."

"Then you don't know. . . don't know that I made it to the castle?" she asked hesitantly and he felt his eyes widen in surprise.

"You made it here? When? How?" he demanded.

"The night before you saw me in the mirror. Gaston had me tied up in a room above the tavern, but I escaped and made it all the way to the castle. Gaston caught me just as I reached the gate. I knew there had to be something wrong, so I was trying to get to you. . ." she trailed off and the Beast could have roared in fury at himself. She had been so close! He could have saved her, if only he had heard her, if only he hadn't been so badly wounded.

"Beast," she said, drawing his attention away from his thoughts. "I don't blame you. Truly. I knew you had to be hurt after what Gaston had done. I could never blame you for this. Please don't blame yourself." She was earnest, pleading, obviously worried for him.

"Don't worry," he assured her, taking her hand gently, hating himself but trying not to for her sake. "You're here, we're both all right, that's all that matters." Belle looked as though she didn't quite believe him, but fortunately she let it go.


	8. Chapter 8

Belle's POV

After a long discussion, in which Lefou was included (and in fact came up with the idea, much to Belle's surprise), it was decided that Gaston's body should be taken into the forest. In a few days, Lefou would return with a story of bandits attacking, and Gaston's body could be retrieved and mourned. It was not perhaps very dignified, but it was the only way to keep from adding to the death toll if the truth was told and the villagers inevitably sought revenge. So Lefou remained in the castle, recovering from his shock and preparing for his task, keeping mostly to himself. The Beast performed the horrible task of bringing Gaston's body into the forest, and Belle did her best not to feel guilty about it all.

Meanwhile, Belle slowly regained her strength, filling her stomach with food and drinking as much water as she wanted. She recovered quickly, all things considered. Her bruises would be painful for weeks, but the cramps in her legs were taken care of in a few days with a few hot baths and some simple stretches.

The dreams however, were a different story.

She woke too many times those first few nights after Gaston's death gasping and sweating, her hands held up to invisible bars or to push away the demon with dark hair and a mad grin. Once she woke clutching her throat in attempts to stop Gaston from choking her only to find that she had scratched her skin when she couldn't rid herself of the collar that wasn't there.

She and the Beast had both also agreed to dispose of her small bottle of poison; apparently Belle had reached for it during one of her nightmares and it had terrified the Beast who was forced to wrestle it away from her while she dreamed. She was strangely still loathe to get rid of it though; it had been her lifeline for so many days, a chance of escape when there was nothing else for her. But the Beast saw her hesitation to destroy it.

"Belle?" he said, taking her hands, enveloping them both as she held the small vial. "Belle, you're safe now," he reminded her. "You don't need this anymore. If you don't wish to be here, you can simply leave. You're free to do as you please. I'll never keep you here against your will. Gaston is gone, but I'll protect you from anyone else who might want to hurt you for as long as you want me. Now please, _please_ get rid of that."

She knew he was telling the truth, that he would protect her from anything that wished to harm her, and that knowledge sent a warmth spreading through her chest. With Gaston gone, why else would she keep the poison, anyway?

"All right," she agreed and stood from her chair by the window, stepping around the Beast and made her way towards the fireplace. She looked at the glass vial in her hand, the flames of the fire dancing off its edges. _I don't need it_, she reminded herself. _I'm safe_. Before she could change her mind, Belle threw the vial into the fire, the glass smashing off the stone at the back of the fireplace.

"Thank you," the Beast whispered and came over to stand beside her. She leaned into his bulk, feeling warmth and safety in his presence, and something more, something that made her heart beat wildly.

But still the nightmares came. The worst ones of all were the times when Belle would see again Gaston's face, choking up blood and staring at her with piercing blue eyes, blaming her for his death. Those were the most frequent, the most horrible, and tortured her the most during her waking hours. She could not rid herself of the knowledge that it _was_ her fault he had died. She had not asked him to go after her, as the Beast frequently pointed out, but Lefou had shot him to protect her, to protect the Beast. While she thanked Lefou profusely for what he had done, her subconscious seemed to think differently, and it was torture.

But though the nightmares apparently couldn't be stopped, every time she woke the Beast was there gently taking her hands so she couldn't harm herself further, bringing her back into the reality where she was safe and Gaston was dead. She knew he barely slept in his chair beside her and knew he needed his rest after being hurt so badly, but she allowed herself to be selfish and be relieved he was there with her.

A few times she wondered briefly if she should invite him to sleep next to her; the bed was big enough and surely it would be more comfortable for him. And the thought of having his warm presence beside her was pleasant and a somehow thrilling. When she found the courage to bring it up, however, he seemed embarrassed and uncomfortable, stating that his chair was comfy enough.

She woke herself screaming that same night, just her third night back in the castle, and pulled herself back into reality with some difficulty.

"Beast!" she cried, knowing she was being foolish but she was terrified beyond reason after seeing Gaston's bloodied face looming before her.

"I'm here," his deep voice assured her in the darkness. "You're safe, I promise."

"Hold me," she begged, reaching to him unable to see in the black that surrounded them. "Please, please hold me."

She could sense his hesitation, but she didn't care, she only wanted the feel of his arms around her and the comfort and safety she felt from his gentle embrace. The bed bent beside her as it took his weight and his soft paws brushed her hair out of her face. She began to calm at his touch, but needed more. As if sensing this, the Beast gently slid her towards the center of the mattress and reclined next to her, pulling her back towards him as he did so. Belle found herself lying on her side with her head resting on the Beast's chest. She edged off a particularly painful bruise and settled into comfort.

"Thank you," she whispered as she felt his arm come to wrap around her shoulders, successfully enveloping her in his warmth.

"Of course," he muttered gently, his deep voice rumbling in his chest against her ear. "Do you feel better now?"

"Much," she replied and took firm hold of his soft shirt to assure herself of his presence and listened to the gentle beat of his heart that assured her that he lived. And for the rest of the night, she slept peacefully.

* * *

Beast's POV

She was sleeping soundly at last, for the first time since she returned to him. Though he had not left her alone, as he promised, her dreams had not spared her from what she had gone through. She still hadn't told him everything that had happened, but that would come with time. Now, as she curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder and clinging to him, Belle was quiet and peaceful through the night. Was he truly so much of a comfort to her that he could quiet her nightmares by merely holding her? She had wanted him to sleep beside her before but he was certain it was only because she was concerned for his comfort. The chair he sat in was not really meant for sleeping in, but he made do. Now he wished he had complied sooner, seeing what it did for her.

When she woke the next morning, she seemed so much more like herself. Still bruised and battered, of course, and there was still a sadness in her eye that told him her recent memories still tortured her, but a good night's sleep seemed to have brought back her smile and her strength.

"I can't believe I finally slept," she said with a sleepy smile. "You made me so comfortable."

"I'm glad," he said honestly, wishing he had the courage to bend down and kiss the top of her head. A comfortable silence settled over them where Belle made no effort to move from his embrace and he was happy just to hold her close. But after a moment, Belle sat up and turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling.

"Beast?"

"Mhm?" he replied, giving her his attention.

"I have something I want to tell you. Something I've wanted to tell you for a long time now, but first. . ." she began but trailed off.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned by this.

"After I sent you away, I thought. . . Gaston made me think it's because I didn't want you. And I believed that, only for a little while, but I believed it."

"Belle, it's all right," he began, but she shook her head.

"I should have been stronger than that, better than that. I should have let you get me out the first time you made it to the cottage. I should have believed that you could have gotten to me before. . . before Gaston made good on his threat."

"You did what you had to, Belle. There's no reason to feel guilty about that. Do I wish I had gotten you away from him then? Of course I do. But you shouldn't for a _second_ blame yourself for this." He couldn't believe how much that moment had torn her down, what it had done to her. The good night's sleep had apparently allowed her the strength to talk about this, which he was grateful for, but he couldn't help but worry about these new revelations. When those words didn't seem to work, he tried a new tactic.

"If I can't blame myself for not saving you when you made it to the castle, then you can't blame yourself for this," he tried, gently cupping one finger under her chin to smile at her. As he hoped, she smiled in return. "I want to be there for you, Belle. I'll protect you from your nightmares and do my best to make you feel better, but I know there's things about this that won't be easily forgotten. But you can't let yourself feel guilty for _anything_ that happened to you."

She smiled at him, if perhaps a little sadly, took his hand from beneath her chin, and to his immense surprise, kissed the finger that had been so recently cupping her chin. He took a better grip on her hand, overwhelmed by her action.

"Belle," he started, her name spilling past his lips.

"I—I love you," she said, meeting his eyes.

The words, those words he had longed to hear from her lips were finally said. She loved him!

"Even like this?" he asked, knowing he would forever be in this form. "The way I am?"

"Yes," she said gently and raised her hand to caress his cheek. He leaned into her touch, helpless against it. Careful of the bandages on her wrist, he raised his paw to hold her hand against his cheek.

"I love you, too," he confessed to her finally, the words feeling so right, so real, and her smile at those words was dazzling.

"But," he couldn't help go on. "But Belle, look at me," he said, sitting up and taking her hand from his cheek to hold onto it in his paw. "I'm not fit to be with you. How do you know you won't regret what you just said to me? What will your father say?" Such questions had been circling in his head since Belle had come back to him, questions he shouldn't have even had the right to think before, but now that she told him at last that she loved him, they suddenly became very real.

"It doesn't matter," she insisted, squeezing his fingers. "When I thought you were—were dead, I only wanted you back. All I wanted was to be with you. I didn't think—didn't want anything else. Now that I have you back, what more could I want?"

"A human man," he grumbled bitterly but immediately regretted his words.

"I. . ." she paused and the Beast internally flinched at her expression. It was obvious he had hurt her by saying that, but that made him realize how serious she was about what she said. She. . . she really did love him like this, hadn't wanted anything more than him, as he was. That seemed impossible to him, but he could see the truth of it in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he quickly apologized. "I just—I just want to be a man you deserve."

"You _are_," she insisted. "You accepted me for who I am, stood by me through so much, changed the way I see the world. You don't even blame me for all the trouble I've caused you," she said with a ghost of a laugh. "How could I ask for anyone better?"

She closed the distance between them, making his heart thud, his breath catch in his throat. He remained perfectly still and allowed her to come so close he could feel her breath on his face. Unable to resist, to find excuses to say why this shouldn't happen, the Beast closed the small distance between them and took her lips gently with his own.

Lighting flowed through him, his mind numb to anything but this embrace he had so longed for. Carefully, he cupped the back of her head and deepened the kiss, cautious of his fangs, and felt Belle's fingers entwine in the fur at his neck, their mismatched lips easily finding a rhythm. He had longed for this, yearned to kiss her as he was now, but with a man's lips.

"Belle," he whispered when they broke apart. "I wish. . . I love you, but I wish, I wish I could. . ." he broke off, not sure if he should tell her what could have been.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes curious and concerned.

"Nothing," he said lamely.

"Is it about the curse?" she asked quietly and the Beast started. "I knew there was something, but I can't quite get all the pieces. That portrait in the West Wing. . ."

"Was me as a child," he confirmed. Why deny it? He no longer wanted to hide it from her, no longer wanted to lie. She paused, looking thoughtful, one eyebrow crooked as she looked at him. He allowed her to look, allowed her to figure it out as she knew she would now.

"I was meant to break it," she said at last. "I'm too late, aren't I?"

"_No_," he said vehemently. "It doesn't matter. We love each other, and that's more than I could have asked for." It was true; now that he knew she loved him after all, it was everything. If only he could do something for the servants, though.

"Well, she rather _was_ too late," a new voice said behind him and he flinched, knowing instantly who was behind him. He had not heard that voice in ten years, but he could not easily forget the creature who condemned him to a life of solitude and self-loathing. "But there were extraordinary circumstances."


	9. Chapter 9

Beast's POV

"Beast?" Belle whispered, her eyes wide as she looked over his shoulder at the one who cast the green light that filled the room. But he couldn't reply. The appearance of the enchantress could only mean more misery, and he wasn't prepared to lose anything more to this woman. Growling, he moved to stand protectively in front of Belle, facing the enchantress with all the bravery he could muster. Belle would not be harmed by this witch, even if he had to defend her to his last breath.

"You obviously love her," the enchantress said, smiling at his protective stance. She had not changed since the first and last time the Beast had seen her; still beautiful in her green flowing gown and still wearing an expression that told him she thought she was so much better than him. But her words caught him off-guard and he ceased his growling.

"Of course I do," he said, his voice gruff, but only because he was speaking to the enchantress. "Since before the night we danced together," he admitted more gently, turning his head so he might look at Belle rather than the enchantress. To look at that witch was to see the moment he was cursed, the pain, the confusion, and the misery he had endured at her hands for ten long years. But Belle was comfort and understanding. "But I couldn't admit it until after I had released you."

"As I well know," the enchantress interrupted with some impatience, forcing him to return his gaze to her. "Now the trick is to find out when the girl first decided to love you."

"Her name is Belle," he snapped, unable to contain his anger towards the enchantress.

"I do not care. What matters is when she gave you her heart."

"Is that all it was supposed to take?" Belle asked and the Beast turned to face her again. "To say that I loved you?"

He nodded, unsure if he should take this as a good thing or not. A look of determination on her face, Belle stepped around him and squared her shoulders, facing the enchantress with all the boldness he loved in her.

"My heart, my lady, has slowly been given to him piece by piece since the day he learnt to be kind, since the day I was able to see his soul. He had it in its entirety for quite some time, but I, like he, could not admit it right away.

"I wanted to tell you," she continued, turning her back on the enchantress to address him, taking his paw in her hands. "The night the villagers attacked. I came back because I couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt, of being without you. I wanted to tell you so badly, but the words wouldn't come. And then Gaston took me. . ." she trailed off and he watched her internal struggle not to remember.

"What you're saying, my dear, is that you've loved this Beast since before you were kidnapped," the enchantress suggested.

"Yes, of course," she agreed quickly and the Beast couldn't help his smile; knowing he had Belle's love all this time was a gift he never would have dared to hope for.

"Well, settles it," the enchantress said and opened her arms out wide to either side.

"Settles what?" he heard Belle demand. "I don't understand."

But he could not comfort her, for a warm white glow had surrounded him, robbing him of his abilities. For a few terrifying moments, the Beast could not see, hear, or even speak within his new strange surroundings. All he could do was feel the sensation of no longer having his feet on the ground and of a warm breeze that danced along his fur. It was difficult to panic in such strangely comfortable surroundings, but even so his inability to see Belle worried him. He didn't trust that the enchantress would not do something to her while he was lost to this glow. But before he could properly worry, the glow began to fade and he was returned gently to the ground. He was weak from whatever the enchantress had done to him however, and he collapsed as his legs tried to take his weight.

"What did you do?" he demanded, his voice as shaky and weak as his legs. But he also felt the pain in his side, leg, and chest had subsided, his wounds no longer throbbing as they had moments before.

"Returned you to your human form, of course," he heard her reply, though all he could see was the pattern of the carpet slowly come into focus. "And yes, you're wounds have also been healed. You're strength will return in a few moments. Proportionate to a human body, of course."

"I'm. . . human?" he asked, unable to comprehend this. He looked at his paws, but where there had been fur and claws now was pale flesh and long, graceful fingers.

"And very generous of me it was, doing this after the rose lost its last petal. But as I said, there were extreme circumstances to take into account."

"Why?" he demanded. The last thing he wanted was a favor from this creature, even as he was grateful to be rid of the form of the Beast.

"I may have wanted to teach you a lesson, my Prince, but you have learned it. As I said, there were circumstances that were beyond your control. I am not as cruel as you believe me to be."

But Adam barely heard her, concentrating instead at Belle. She still stood where she had been before he was in the white glow, but now she stared at him in shock, unmoving. He cringed, thinking perhaps his new form was unpleasant to her, that perhaps she preferred the Beast.

"Belle?" he asked, needing something from her. He stood, using the nearby bed as support, and took a step towards her. She shied away, flinching, and he froze. She hadn't done that since her first days in the castle when the Beast had been nothing more than an ill-tempered brute.

"Belle, it's me. I won't hurt you, it's still only me." She looked at him, a flash of recognition in her eyes as he spoke. He realized that his voice was still relatively the same, lighter coming from the lungs and chest of a man, but still similar. She stepped forward cautiously and he stood as still as he could, hoping she could see beyond his exterior one more time.

It occurred to him that, to her, the Beast had been safety from the man who sought to do her harm. Now that the Beast was gone, did this unknown man seem threatening to her because of what she had been through? But she took another step closer and raised a hand to touch his hair and he could see she was more curious than frightened. He felt her fingers comb through his new shoulder-length hair, watched as her beautiful brown eyes raked over his new features before finally meeting his eyes. And then, miraculously, her curious eyes widened and she smiled in clear recognition.

"It _is_ you!" she said softly and Adam could have cried out for joy. Instead, he lovingly brushed a lock of hair from her face, careful of her bruises, marveling at the softness of her hair against his new skin, and bent to kiss her once more. This time their lips met without difficulty, though he noticed how Belle still sought to wrap her hand in his hair as she had done earlier with his fur, and this familiar gesture made him smile.

"Yes, the curse is broken and you can go about your lives without shaming the girl's father," the enchantress interrupted, sounding board with the whole thing.

"The servants?" the Beast demanded quickly before she could disappear, keeping Belle in his arms.

"Are set to rights," she assured him. "I have also helped along your little reuse about bandits in the forest with that horrible man's death. You wouldn't want any of those repercussions coming after you in your new life. I could also get rid of those awful bruises and cuts, if you like," she told Belle.

"No, thank you," Belle replied to his, and he could see also to the enchantress' surprise. "I want to be sure this isn't all some sort of dream. And the reality of my bruises, unpleasant as it is, will assure me of that."

"As you wish," the enchantress said and, if she had been less dignified, the Beast thought she might have shrugged. "But here, at least," she waved her hand lazily once. "You'll have no scars to mar that pretty skin of yours."

"I—thank you," Belle said and subdued a gesture that told him she was self-conscious of the marks around her neck.

"I'll leave you now. You shan't see me again unless you require it," the enchantress said and raised her arms above her head. She lowered her emerald eyes to meet his before she disappeared, and smiled. "You have done well, my prince," she said and lowered her arms swiftly, disappearing in a blinding flash of green light.

"I think there's a bit of a story behind all this," Belle said, drawing his attention back to her. He chuckled and reached forward to embrace her, amazed that she had been able to overcome such odds, that she still stood before him and accepted him.

"And I'll tell it, all of it," he promised. "But first I think we should find your father and the servants."

"_First_, I think I need you to kiss me again," she suggested with a smile. He grinned and hastened to comply, pulling her close into the embrace he had dreamed of for so long, moving his mouth against hers, feeling the lightning that flowed through him at her touch. He could feel her pulling on the back of his neck, drawing them ever closer. Her need was clear, her desire to be with him overwhelming him. For several long, wonderful moments as they kissed, he could think of nothing else but her, how he desired nothing else but to be with her, how he never wanted to be parted from her again.

"Marry me," he heard himself whisper as he broke apart from her. Belle paused and looked up at him and he was suddenly terrified. It occurred to him that this was the question that Gaston had plagued her with for so long, that perhaps she had gone off the idea of marriage altogether, that perhaps it was too soon for him to ask such an important, massive thing of her. But even though his mouth and heart seemed to be working of their own accord without his mind getting in the way, he knew it was what he wanted more than anything.

"Marry me," he repeated, more confident now, and gently tucked a fallen lock of hair from her forehead. "Belle, I never want to be without you. I want to be yours, to try to love you as you deserve. Please say you'll marry me and we can spend our lives together."

"Of course I'll marry you," she agreed almost immediately with a wide grin and he sighed in relief, his heart soaring. They were to begin their lives together, to walk side by side through life. Nothing could have spoiled that moment, seeing his love in his arms, so beautiful, so happy to be with him. Unable to help himself, he bent to kiss her once again, adoring this connection with her. He stopped himself just before he wrapped his arms around her fiercely and twirl her in joy as they kissed, knowing her bruises were still painful, and so he contented himself with merely cupping the back of her head to pull her closer.

"I do have one question though," she said as they broke apart again.

"Just one?" he teased, knowing how many she must want to ask after everything that had just happened.

"Well, one very important one that cannot wait," she amended with a smile. "What is your name?"

"My name?" he repeated, at a loss.

"Well, I can't very well keep calling you 'Beast' now, can I?"

"You can call me whatever you like," he said with a chuckle. "But I believe my name is Adam."

"Adam," she said as if to taste the name on her tongue, and he closed his eyes in ecstasy, not realizing how wonderful it would feel to have Belle speak his name.

"And you're all right with me. . .like this?" he asked hesitantly. "I'll be enough to keep your nightmares at bay? To keep you safe?"

"Of course," she said quickly. "I fell in love with you, not how you look. And it _will_ be easier for Papa to approve of us."

"Yes, I imagine it would," he agreed with another chuckle, trying to picture Maurice's face if he was told his daughter was going to marry a creature such as the Beast.

"Come," she said, slipping her hand into his and entwining their fingers, something the Beast's paws would have been too large to comfortably manage. "We have much to talk about, and lots of people to talk about it with." Before she could lead him out of her room however, he stopped her and pulled her into one more kiss.

"I shall never grow tired of that for as long as I live," she sighed when he released her lips.

"Good, because I shall be putting that to the test."

"Be my guest," she laughed and stood on tiptoe to kiss him one more time before they left to find the servants and her father, their nightmares only memories, and their two lives now beginning as one.

* * *

_Hooray! It's a happy ending, just the way I like them! Hope you all enjoyed it!_


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